


He Blinded Me with Science

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's the new substitute teacher at Ian's school. Maybe they can both teach each other something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Blinded Me with Science

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feveredpitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feveredpitch/gifts).



Mickey stumbles into the room and pushes his glasses up, looking up and finding 20 people staring at him. 21. “Uh. Fuck. I mean shit. I mean. Darn.”

Twenty people laugh. The 21st looks like he wants to, but knows he can’t. “Can I help you?”

“I’m, uh, Mr. Milkovich? I’m substituting for Mr. Wilson?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“What?”

“Well, you sound like you’re asking me if that’s who you are. And, since I have no idea, I don’t know how to answer your questions.” He leans against the edge of the desk and crosses his arms over his chest. “We do have a Mr. Wilson in the school. Teaches science.”

“Yeah. Me. I mean, yes. I’m substituting for the science guy.”

“You’re in the wrong classroom.”

“No sh...I see that. Can you tell me where I need to go?”

A hand goes up in the middle of the classroom and the guy Mickey assumes is the teacher turns his head, his lips twitching with what is, no doubt, a smart ass answer to Mickey’s question. “Yes, Victoria?”

“I could show Mr. Milkovich where the science classroom is.” Someone mutters something about how she could show him where the empty janitor’s closet is and she turns to glare at whoever it was.

“Kyle. Not cool. Okay, you guys read chapter seven. When I come back we have a quiz about the English fleet during the Napoleonic wars. Twelve pages of text, seven questions. Who will win the grand prize?” He waves his hand, fluttering it as if to tell them to get going then he pushes off the desk and walks over to Mickey. “I assume you actually _are_ Mr. Milkovich?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Ian Gallagher.” He holds out his hand to shake and Mickey takes it after moving his briefcase to his other hand. “C’mon. I’ll show you to the classroom.”

“Shouldn’t you...keep an eye on these guys?”

“It’s honors history, if they fuck around it’s their own grade. Also, my prizes for quizzes are epic, and they all want them. So they’ll read.” He guides Mickey out the door and follows him, leaning back into his classroom. “Five extra points for some literature information. Put your thinking caps on!”

He straightens up and gestures down the hall. He’s not quite flamboyant, but he’s definitely dramatic. “So, you know Wilson had a nervous breakdown, right?”

“I...did not.”

“Not from the kids or anything. Excuse me, students. We’re not supposed to call them kids. He was having all sorts of marital difficulties that stemmed from him being a lying, cheating dickface and getting caught with three prostitutes. Would have been quite the scandal if he wasn’t some bigwig in his church and some money hadn’t changed hands. Our little secret.”

“How do you know all this?”

“My brother Carl’s a cop.”

“Isn’t that, like, a rights violation or something?”

“I’m the history and government teacher here, buddy. Let’s not step on my territory. I’m not telling you how to science, am I?”

“No. You are not telling me how to science.” Mickey’s pretty sure he’s entered Wonderland and this dude is the fucking Mad Hatter. 

“Here you go, Mr. Wizard. Try not to blow anything up before lunchtime.” Ian reaches over and pushes Mickey’s glasses up on his nose. “After lunch is my planning period, so if you do it then, I can come watch.”

**

Ian walks back to his classroom and he only glances back twice. He figures he deserves some sort of prize for that, because his brain is filled with bad jokes about chemistry and reactions and how much he wants to experiment with the new science teacher. They’re bad enough that he groans to himself before taking a deep breath and opening his classroom door.

All the students are silently reading and Ian sits behind his desk, writing down the quiz questions. He absolutely will not look for the science teacher during lunch. Or during his planning period. Ian’s dated a co-worker once and it ended badly. Very badly. Possibly dating the principal of the school wasn’t his best idea ever. He learned the hard way not to date someone who has the ability to remove you from your position.

And not in the sexy way.

“All right, kiddos. Time’s up. Let’s so how big those brains got while I was away.”

He gives the quiz and hands out the prizes. His prizes are awesome. Movie tickets. Cubs game tickets. Gift cards from fast food places. Nothing too expensive, but stuff he knows that kids in this area can’t always afford. That’s the reason Ian’s back in this part of town. He thought about teaching somewhere else where he could maybe earn a liveable wage, but figuring out how to help the kids that needed it mattered more than that in the end.

“Mr. Gallagher?”

Ian looks up at Victoria who’s standing at the edge of his desk, glancing around to make sure the rest of her classmates are gone. This, Ian has learned the hard way, is never a good sign. “Yes, Victoria?”

“I know I did really awful on that last test. And I really, really, really need to pass this class.”

“You can make it up on the quizzes. You just need to focus. I know it can be difficult, but you’re more than capable of making the grade up.”

“I know.” She runs a finger along the edge of the desk and looks at him from under her lashes. “But I was thinking I could...make it up to you.”

“That’s...really not an option.” Ian keeps his gaze on her. “I don’t get involved with any of my students. I had to work for every grade I got, and I ask that you all do the same. I’m sure you don’t want to get where you’re going in life with people like Kyle assuming how you get there, do you?”

“But it works.”

Ian shakes his head. “Not on me.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “You know, no one thought you’d be a hard-ass.”

“I’ve known people who use sex as currency.” Ian says it lightly. There was a period of his life that he’d done just that. Before he’d buckled down. Then he’d used it in a different way to pay off his student loans. Less sex and more the idea of sex. The promise of sex. “It doesn’t always end up well.”

“Whatever.” She flips her hair and walks out of the classroom, slamming his door behind her. Ian rubs his temples with his fingers and closes his eyes. He doesn’t have a class this period, and he knows he needs to prep for the honors government class since they’ll be coming back from their field trip to the capital and they’re going to be revved up. He leans back in his chair to think about the project he has in mind, but when he glances toward the classroom door, he sees the top of a dark head go by. He knows, even though the bell’s rung, that it’s most likely a student, and not the new science substitute. 

When he’d walked into the lab, Ian had stood there and watched his ass. It was perfect. Round and fucking ripe-looking. Ian’s brain gets stuck on the myriad of things he could do to and with that ass. He has to force himself to stop, because, along with not fucking around with students, he doesn’t jerk off at his desk like a horny teenager. He didn’t even do it when he _was_ a horny teenager. 

But that doesn’t mean he can’t disappear into the staff bathroom for a while.

**

Mikey walks into the supply room at the back of the lab. There is a wall and a half full of stoppered vials, glass jars, and dark bottles. Nothing’s labeled and most are more than half empty. He’s glad he doesn’t have a class until the next day since he’s going to have to spend most of today and possibly tonight sorting this shit as well as cleaning the equipment.

By the time he runs out of tape for the label maker, two hours have passed and he’s only managed to get halfway through one wall. Some of the chemicals are easy to identify by sight or smell, but some of them require some experimentation.

He’s washing a muddled precipitate out of a Erlenmeyer flask when there’s a knock on the open door. He looks over and it’s the history teacher. Mickey has to think for a minute to remember his name rather than just his body. Ian.

“Hey,” Ian says as he walks into the classroom. “How’s it going?”

“How did this guy not blow up the school? Or kill someone?” He carefully sets the flask on the drying rack upside down. “His chemical storage is atrocious. He has unlabeled mercury, methanol, fucking hydrochloric acid. It’s a wonder your school hasn’t blown off the fucking map.” Mickey stops and frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Ian blinks and shakes his head. “Pardon?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re just really pissed off. You’re all puffed up like a...” Ian stops and Mickey can only imagine it’s because of the expression on his face. “Um. What are you making in there?”

“I’m not making anything. I’m cleaning up because I had to figure out what the fuck was in half of those jars. I’m not even close to done because I ran out of fucking labels and everything’s a mess, and I’m probably going to be the one that blows up the school because I can’t figure out what’s what in that fucking mess of clear liquids and white powders and I look fucking ridiculous without eyebrows.”

“Most people do. I...what?”

“Fire. Singes eyebrows off? Are you paying attention at all?” Mickey shakes his head, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why are you here?”

“Coffee.”

“No.”

“What?” 

Mickey walks back to the supply room. “No. I’m not going to show you how to jack up your coffee. You’re that keen on getting a buzz on, then store a bottle of whiskey in your desk or something.”

“Wow.” Mickey turns around and Ian licks his lips. “Do you ever listen to people or do you just keep steamrolling over them? I mean, you were nice and shy earlier, and now you’re like a fucking pissed off grizzly bear or something.”

Mickey gestures to the shelves. “Do you want to guess how many of those are hazardous? Lethal? Why don’t you sniff that one and see what it smells like so I can tell you if it’s a toxic gas if it gets mixed with something else in the air.”

“Okay, I get that you’re understandably pissed off, but I was really just wondering if you want some coffee. Like, a break? Because you seem a little stressed.” Ian puts his fingers close together. “A tiny bit. Hardly noticeable.”

Mickey bites the inside of his lip, because there’s no way he’s going to smile. “Fuck you.”

“I always insist on coffee first.”

**

Ian braces himself, because this is the moment when he either gets some sort of disgusted look that they try to hide, or he gets attacked. Nothing happens so Ian opens one of his eyes. He wasn’t even away he’d closed them, but south side instinct seems to recognize that Mickey’s dangerous and volatile and Ian probably doesn’t stand a chance. He looks over at Mickey who’s standing there, arms crossed, and eyebrow cocked.

“What?” Ian asks.

“Where?”

“Um...well...it’s technically still school hours, so staff lounge?” Ian hadn’t actually expected Mickey to say yes. From the look on Mickey’s face, he’s pretty pleased at Ian’s disbelief. “I can warn you of the hazards there.”

“Hazards, huh?” Mickey glances around the supply room before guiding Ian out and locking the door. “You got unlabeled chemicals in there, too?”

“Not _technically_.”

Mickey narrows his eyes. “It’s not nice to poison me on my first day.”

“I promise. No poisoning.” Ian leans in and whispers to Mickey. “Just don’t take any coffee from the home ec teacher. Trust me, you’d rather ingest cyanide. You’d probably die quicker that way.” 

Mickey smells good, which throws Ian off, and makes his dick twitch. Being this close to his face, his ear, his neck makes Ian a little nervous that he’s going to have to jerk off again before the end of his planning break. Mickey doesn’t move away, doesn’t act like Ian’s freaking him out, so Ian’s relaxing, actually letting himself consider the fact that Mickey is – might be? - gay. He’s obviously cool with Ian being gay, but the two aren’t the same thing.

Ian is _painfully_ aware of that.

“So. Coffee.” Ian realizes that Mickey has absolutely no idea where the staff room is when he keeps slowing down his walk, trying to get Ian in front of him. “Right. Let me...did they not show you anything?”

“I was a little late this morning.”

“A little late?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t get Mandy out of bed.”

And just like that, Ian’s hopes crash. “Oh. Mandy’s your...?”

A smile quirks the corner of Mickey’s mouth. “Roommate. Sort of.”

Ian exhales deeply and shoves open the staff room door a little harder than necessary, nearly breaking the nose of the school librarian. “Oh. Sorry, Gail.” He grimaces and steps out of the way so Mickey can come inside. Gail’s angry glare changes almost immediately at the sight of him. 

“That’s fine. We’re all used to you charging around like a rhino. Who’s this?” She’s blatantly checking Mickey out and Ian wishes he hadn’t missed with the door. “Looks too old to be one of your students, Ian. Unless you started holding some of them back.” There’s just a hint of smirkiness in her words, and Ian is, once again, trying to remember what he did to piss her off. She holds out her hand to Mickey. “Gail Trumboult. I’m the school librarian.”

Mickey glances around the room, barely nodding at her. “Mickey Milkovich. Substitute science teacher. Are those cookies?”

“Andrea brought them in.” Gail states flatly, moving closer to Mickey. “What’s your favorite kind of cookie? Mine are much better than hers. I could bring you some.”

“What? No. That’s cool. Just curious. The last job I had that started with some lady offering me cookies ended up with me being chased out of her back yard with a garden hose and a shotgun.” He points to the coffee pot. “There?”

Ian knows his eyes get big, but he knows if he says something, he’ll end up either asking Mickey what exactly he _did_ for those cookies, or laughing directly in Gail’s face. Either Mickey is completely oblivious to her – which Ian finds hard to believe given that even _he_ know Gail is fucking hot – or he’s got a great poker face. 

“Not if you want to live,” Ian tells him.

“Right. So where’s the coffee you promised me, Gallagher? Or did you lure me here under false pretenses?”

“ _Ian_ ,” Gail turns her glare on Ian and he can’t help glancing over at her. “Don’t you have a class in five minutes?”

“Shit.” Ian glances at his watch. “Rain check?”

Mickey nods, and Ian wants to believe it’s disappointment he sees on Mickey’s face. “Sure.”

**

Fucking bitch.

Gail insists on walking Mickey back to his classroom, even though he promises he knows where it is. She offers her help and her expertise and pretty much gives him a figurative hand job to get his attention. Normally Mickey would have told her to fuck off, but it is his first day and he figures it’s better not to make enemies quite this soon.

Besides, watching Ian get pissed off had been fun. He could tell Ian was trying to guess where Mickey fell on the Kinsey scale and failing miserably and, no matter where he ended up, Ian didn’t want him anywhere near Gail. And Mickey was more than happy to oblige him. Mickey doesn’t get scared of chicks often, but this one gives him the heebie-jeebies. It’s not that she’s aggressive. Hell, Mandy is Mickey’s sister, and she’s got the corner on that market. Gail’s just...predatory. Ruthless seeming. She reminds Mickey of his dad in a way. Using whatever he had at his disposal to get what he wanted, not caring who got trampled in the dust.

He shakes his head and heads for the supply room. Right in front of it is a blue box with white lettering. He bends down and picks it up and he can’t keep himself from smiling. Labels for his label-maker. Courtesy of the history department. 

Mickey’s exhausted by the end of the day and he realizes he still hasn’t had any coffee. Or lunch. He’s still not through with the first wall. He’s never going to have anything prepped for class tomorrow, so he’s going to have to start the fucking class off with a boring ass lecture. Taking off his gloves, he rubs his face and goes back into the classroom. He knows he should go home. The sun is setting outside and red and orange ribbons of light are falling in slats across the desks. 

“Hey.”

Mickey jumps a good foot in the air and whirls to face the door where the voice came from. Ian’s standing there with his hands held up in surrender. “Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just heading out and I saw your light was still on.”

“Yeah. Still cleaning shit up.” He looks around at the pile of flasks and vials in the sink. He needs to wash those as well. He definitely can’t leave that for tomorrow. “Thanks for the labels.”

“No problem. I mean, if it weren’t for chemistry, I’d be out of a job. No Boston Tea Party. No shot heard ‘round the world. No advanced warfare. It’d be awful. I’d have to do something that paid shit, like CEO of a Fortune 500 company.”

Mickey snorts. “Your class sounds pretty violent.”

Ian shrugs. “History is violent.”

“True.” Mickey rubs his face again. “Shit. I need coffee and food and a cigarette. And then another week and a half to get this place ready for classes.”

“Well, I can’t do anything about the last one, but I can provide the other three.” Ian nods toward the door. “Come on.” 

Mickey hesitates for a minute and then follows Ian down the darkened corridors. He heads to the staff room and holds the door open for Mickey as he follows him in. Ian leads them over to the far corner and opens the window, wincing as it creaks when he turns the handle. Mickey raises an eyebrow and Ian holds up a finger, telling Mickey to wait. 

Reaching above the window, Ian pulls out a key and goes over to a corner cabinet and unlocks it. He pulls out a backpack and brings it over, setting it on a table nearby. “Here.”

Mickey takes the bag of coffee grounds that Ian offers him. “Is this Folgers in a fancy bag?”

“Taster’s Choice.” Ian grins. “Just make the coffee.”

Mickey goes over to the coffee pot and does as he’s told, casting quick glances back at Ian every once in a while. He’s intent on whatever he’s got in the backpack, so Mickey gets a chance to just look at him in the dying light. The last strands of sunlight bounce of Ian’s hair, setting it on fire. It seems only fair, since everything about Ian is setting Mickey on fire. 

“How do you feel about pepperoni sticks?”

“Like Slim Jims?”

“Yeah. And...questionable cheese?”

“Unrefrigerated Hickory Farms shit, or Cheez Whiz?”

“The second.”

“Fuck, yeah.” The coffee starts perking and Mickey boosts himself up on the counter. “How come you’re here so late?”

“Grading projects. Paper, presentation, bill submission.”

“Huh?”

“The seniors have to write a paper on something they think should be a law. They have to persuade the class with their argument and presentation, have to refute all questions and concerns. Once it passes the classes vote by a two-thirds majority they have to write it up for submission as a bill to the state government.” He rubs his eyes and yawns. “I’m reading through all the bills now. And there’s a lot of legal language that is boring as shit.”

“Have you done it before?”

“Twice.”

“Did it ever work?”

Ian sniffs and yawns again. “Yeah. Once. A healthcare reform regarding access for state-insured people to mental health care.”

“Huh.” Mickey hops down and grabs two cups, filling them both from the dripping machine and the partially full coffee pot. He sets the pot back under the stream and carries both cups over to Ian. Ian’s got the food spread out on the block heater along the window, so Mickey sits on the other side of the food.

“Blunt or cigarette?”

Mickey laughs. “Jesus. I have to handle chemicals. I’ll stick with a cigarette, I think.”

“Probably right. Plus it’s Monday, and joints are really more of a Friday kind of thing.” Ian pulls out a pack of cigarettes and hands it to Mickey. Mickey hands it back and Ian puts the pack down.

“You’re not going to smoke?”

“Trying to cut back. I suck at it, but if I just steal a few puffs from yours, I won’t feel as guilty.”

Mickey flicks the lighter and laughs, drawing in a breath as he holds the flame to the paper. “I like that you assume I’m going to share.”

“I am wining and dining you. The _least_ you could do is let me suck the cigarette a few times.”

This time Mickey chokes, coughing smoke. “You’re kind of a dick.”

Ian snags the cigarette out of Mickey’s hand. “Yep.” He gestures down at the napkin between them with small pepperoni bites, a can of Cheez Whiz, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers. “Eat up. I’m not gonna take you somewhere this fancy all the time, so you’d better enjoy it.”

**

Ian is having the best time he’s had in ages. He’s fairly certain Mickey’s flirting back, and he’s looking at Ian, which has to be a good sign as well. Still, Mickey seems to fall somewhere between ‘don’t ask/don’t tell’ and a smirky asshole. The one thing Ian knows for sure though is that Mickey’s mouth wrapped around the cigarette gives Ian a vague idea of what Mickey’s mouth would look like wrapped around Ian’s dick, and Ian has to shift around a little to relieve some of the pressure.

Mickey finishes his second cup of coffee and piles an inch of Cheez Whiz on the last cracker. He shoves it in his mouth and ends up with a dollop of cheese on his upper lip. Ian can’t look away, and all he wants to do is slide his tongue out and lick it off, taste Mickey beneath the salty fake taste. Before Ian can do anything, Mickey hops to the floor and goes to the sink to rinse out his coffee mug. 

Ian doesn’t want Mickey to go back to work. He doesn’t want to go home to his very quiet, very small apartment. He wants to hang out with Mickey. Talk and bullshit and keep doing whatever they’ve been doing. Flirting? Playing? Teasing? Ian’s not sure, but he likes it. Likes Mickey.

“You want help?”

“I think I can handle putting the cup in the dishwasher.”

“No, I meant in your lab. I don’t know anything about chemicals, but you had dishes to wash, and I definitely know how to do that. I’m a trained professional even.” Ian crumples up the empty napkin and tosses it in the trash. He moves close to Mickey by the sink to rinse out his own cup and put it in the dishwasher. They’re too close, and all Ian can feel is heat. “Get you out of here at a decent time.”

Mickey chews his bottom lip, and Ian gets caught again, thinking about how Mickey’s mouth would look on him, feel around him. “You sure? I get wanting to get the fuck out of here.”

“No. I don’t mind at all. I can’t stay too late, but another couple of hours might help you get some stuff done, right?”

“Yeah.” Mickey nods and his smile is beautiful. Ian is so completely fucked. “That’d be nice of you.” 

They start down the hallway and Ian can’t help glancing over at Mickey. “So, what made you want to become a teacher?”

Mickey snorts. “I didn’t. Want to, that is. You know, it wasn’t my childhood dream. My childhood dream was finally pulling a big scam and getting the fuck out of here. Well, or living to my thirties. Both of those seemed pretty fucking unrealistic though.”

“Okay.” Ian watches Mickey as he talks, caught by the wry smile he’s wearing, the expressiveness of his face. “So how did you accidentally become a teacher?”

Mickey clears his throat. “Well, I was working for an outdoor home care company.” Mickey makes quotation marks around it. “Which basically meant we mowed lawns, raked leaves, that sort of shit. Mostly I was using it to case houses. I figured people who could pay for shit like that had to have something worth stealing.”

“Did they?”

“Nah. Most of them were just pretentious fuckheads, bored housewives looking for some sweaty young thing to bang ‘em, or creepy ass old men who’d stare at you while drinking fucking tea and licking their lips.”

“Wow. Dream job. Why would you leave that for this?”

Mickey flips him off. “I get this new house assigned to me. No one wants to do it because the owner’s weird. There’s this garage or something that no one’s allowed to go in to and you can’t mow around it or anything. Some of the guys think it’s a slaughterhouse, some of them think it’s a porn studio. I don’t give a shit, because no one wants to work there, so this guy’s paying extra, and I can use the cash. So I go there and I do my shit and he’s watching me from the doorway when he comes out of the garage. I’m out of gas for the mower, so I’m jerry-rigging some shit, right? I’ve only got a little bit to go, and I just need enough momentum to get it to move, get the blades to turn. Doesn’t have to be fancy. I’ve done this with a self-powered mower before. I look up and there’s this dude.”

“Creep old guy?”

“Nah. He comes over and squats down beside me, looks at what I’m doing, tells me to wait. Disappears into his garage and comes back with a bottle of something. I don’t know what it is, but it ain’t gas. I freak out when he pours it in the tank, because if he fucked up the lawnmower, it’s coming out of my salary. He stands up. Tells me to start it. And I do. And it purrs like a fucking cat.”

“What was it?”

“That’s what I asked, though it was more a ‘what the fuck, dude?’, and he took me to the garage and showed me what it was. Some sort of lab with all these things bubbling and steaming and hissing and Bunsen burners up the ass, right? Fucking chemistry lab. I figure he’s fucking Doc Brown, right? Trying to get to the future, but he’s a chemistry professor and an inventor and he starts showing me stuff and I must have looked interested, because he started teaching me too. I got lost on some of the shit, so I went back and got my GED, then I sat in on a bunch of his classes. And then I started going to classes for real and got my degree.”

“Wow.”

“My brothers think I’m fucking awesome because I actually get to blow shit up for a living. Of course, my brothers are fucking idiots who probably think I work at a firework manufacturers or something.” Mickey leads Ian over to the sink once they get to his classroom. He sets up the test tube drying rack and shows Ian the required steps to keep from killing himself while he’s cleaning.

“I know how to wash dishes.”

“Yeah? And do you know how to keep potassium from exploding when it reacts with the water vapor in the air?”

“Um. No?”

“Then fucking listen to me.” Ian shuts up after that and actually listens instead of staring at Mickey’s hands and his mouth. He’s already half in love with Mickey just from listening to him talk, and it gets even worse when he starts _teaching_ Ian, because Mickey’s patient and firm and passionate, careful and probably really fucking good with the kids. Kids love teachers who love what they do, because it obviously matters to them, so it must be cool. 

Mickey finally leaves him alone with gloves and goggles, and Ian is desperately eager to make a sex joke, but he manages to contain the impulse. He’s careful with the equipment – Jesus, his brain needs to stop with the bad jokes and puns – because he’s pretty sure Mickey might go ballistic if he isn’t. He glances back from time to time and catches sight of Mickey moving from the supply room to one of the lab tables, and hears him cursing under his breath and sometimes not so under his breath.

Once he’s done cleaning up the equipment, Ian grabs a stool at the lab table and sits across from Mickey. He keeps his goggles on, because Mickey’s wearing his and Ian figures they should probably both look ridiculous together. Also because Mickey gives him a look when Ian starts to take them off.

No matter how much he watches him, Ian can’t actually parse if Mickey’s gay, straight, or bi. Or just a small, kind of grumpy bundle of mixed signals. No matter what though, Ian’s pretty sure he’s in love.

**

It’s two in the morning and the janitor has walked by about fifty times looking in on them when Mickey finally calls it quits. He could keep working, but Gallagher’s elbow is propped on the lab table, his head is on his hand, but it keeps falling off when Ian dozes. “Okay. Pretty sure I should let you go home.”

“I’m fine. Awake.” Ian straightens up and stares at Mickey with wide eyes. He looks like he’s still half asleep, so Mickey reaches across and lifts Ian’s goggles up. There’s a red indentation on Ian’s face from the glasses, and he looks pretty ridiculous, so Mickey has to try hard not to laugh. Ian obviously can tell what he’s doing because he flips Mickey off. 

“No. No. You look great. Really. You should go with that look for your next date. You’ll get laid in no time. Won’t even make it out of the restaurant.”

Ian keeps flipping him off, adding his second middle finger to the mix. Mickey very deliberately doesn’t think about what Ian could probably do with those long, lean fingers because that would give him an actual hard-on, and he’s got a long walk home. Except now he’s thinking about it and if it weren’t for the vial of sodium hydroxide in his hand, he would probably reach over and grab Ian’s hand and pull his finger into his mouth and suck on it. 

Fuck.

“Seriously though. Go home. You don’t have to hang out here with me.”

“You should go home too.” Ian yawns. “You have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay. If you leave, I’ll leave. And Mr. Hannigan will stop looking at us like we’re trying to build a bomb or something.”

“You can’t really blame them. You know we both had misspent youths.” Ian rubs his face and Mickey gets stuck on his hands again. “Grab your stuff. We can get mine on the way out.”

“You’re not going to try to shove me in a locker are you?”

“What?” Ian laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the tough guy here.”

Mickey sets his goggles down and gets his glasses out of his front pocket, putting them on. He blinks at Ian from behind them. He knows exactly how ridiculous he looks in them, how much he would have gotten his ass kicked if he’d admitted he needed them in high school. He cocks an eyebrow at Ian who presses his lips together to hold in a laugh. “Yeah, well, your giant ass wouldn’t fit in a locker.”

“I was a skinny, small little shit until I turned sixteen. Then puberty was kind.” Mickey grabs his briefcase from behind his desk and stifles a yawn. He tries to picture Ian as scrawny and can’t manage to do it.

“Yeah, well all puberty did for me was laugh in my face.” Mickey looks at Ian. “Let’s go.”

Ian leads the way down the hall to his classroom. Mickey watches him walk and it’s loose and easy. Ian’s at home in his body and Mickey envies him. In his world, Mickey had to make up for being short by being that much more dangerous than everyone else, that much angrier, that much more aggressive. Ian looks like he could win anyone over with a smile. He’d pretty much done just that with Mickey, after all.

Ian’s got an actual tweed fucking jacket and it takes everything Mickey has not to laugh at him. He manages until Ian throws it over his shoulder, hooked on one of his fingers. “Okay, you have _got_ to be fucking with me here.”

“What?”

“There is no way you actually wear that thing.”

Ian frowns and then stops, setting his briefcase down before tugging the jacket on. It fits him perfectly, and Mickey resists the urge to lick his lips or to take the jacket off of Ian right _fucking_ then. “I’ll have you know that this is the height of fashion for history teachers everywhere. I’m like a fucking supermodel right now.”

“You’re super full of bullshit is what you are.”

Ian keeps a straight face for a minute and then loses it, laughing loudly. “Yeah. My brother gave it to me when I got my job here. My brother’s kind of an asshole.”

“Is that the cop?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s an asshole too. It’s a long-standing family tradition. But I’m talking about my older brother. He’s a politician.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“I know, right?” 

“Do you vote for him?”

Ian looks slightly alarmed. “Are you kidding?”

Mickey laughs as they hit the doors, both of them starting toward the nearest el station. “You live around here?”

“About a mile and a half that way.”

“No shit? I live on Madison.”

“Huh.” Ian smiles at him and Mickey feels his whole body get warm. “Practically neighbors.” Ian frowns for a moment. “Is your roommate going to be pissed that you’re out so late?”

“My ro...oh. No, man. She’s cool with it. Understands. Plus, you know, I called her and told her. No secrets between the two of us.”

“Right.” Ian smiled tightly and Mickey had to bite the inside of his lip. “So how long have you guys been roommates?”

“Feels like our entire lives.”

“You’re really close, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mickey finally lets his smile out. “She’s my sister, man.”

“Oh. Oh!” Ian sighs and his shoulders drop. “I thought maybe I was keeping you from your girlfriend or wife or something.”

“Nope. Living the bachelor’s life. Teaching, organizing chemicals, eating leftover food from the restaurant my sister works at. I party so hard even the Kardashians look up to me.”

“I can imagine.”

They walk a while longer and finally Mickey sighs. “You could just ask, you know.”

“Ask?”

“What you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know anything.”

“Oh.” Mickey nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He bites back another smile and shrugs. “So you don’t want to know if I’m gay?”

Ian stumbles, but manages to right himself without falling. “What? I...No! That’s not any of my business.”

“I didn’t say it was your business. I said you want to know.” Mickey turns his head and looks at him. There’s no way he’s making this easy for Ian, even though making it easy is exactly what his body is telling him to do. He cocks his eyebrow and waits for Ian. Mickey can practically see the wheels spinning. “And, while watching you try to figure it out has been a lot of fun, I’m wondering if you’re going to ask so we can go to your place and fuck or If I’m going home alone.”

“Oh. Well, that...yes. That answers the question. Decisively.” Ian keeps nodding and Mickey keeps looking at him until the penny seems to drop. “Oh! Right. Home. With me. Yes.”

**

Ian’s pretty sure his heart just stopped. Because, unless he was totally reading ‘go to your place and fuck’ incorrectly, Mickey not only just told Ian he’s gay, but he also made it very clear that he wants Ian even though it’s two in the morning and neither of them have actually slept in over 18 hours, and Ian was just falling asleep in the lab a half hour ago, and they both have classes to teach in roughly six hours.

Mickey’s smiling at Ian like he’s kind of an adorable idiot which Ian is pretty sure he is. “So, should we take the train or you feel like walking?”

“Right.” Ian clears his throat and pulls out his Ventra card, touching it to the reader. Mickey does the same and they head to the platform. Now that he’s been given the green light, it takes a lot of willpower not to shove Mickey into a wall and taste the bottom lip Mickey bites when he’s concentrating. They have at least a half hour wait for the train, and Ian’s beginning to think they should have walked when Mickey glances over at him. 

“I take it from the fact that we’re going to your place that you don’t have a boyfriend? Or partner. Whatever?”

“Oh. No. I’m not in a relationship or anything right now. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I were.”

“Technically you didn’t ask me over.”

“Right.” Ian can’t believe how awkward he feels and how stupid he’s acting. “So. How long have you been gay?” He closes his eyes and mentally kicks himself as Mickey laughs. “I mean. Shit. Out.”

Mickey’s laugh fades and when Ian looks at him, he’s frowning. “Officially? About four years. The first person I told was my dad.”

“How’d he react?”

Mickey smirks and rocks up onto his toes then back to his heels. “He got put into solitary confinement for threatening to kill me. And a few other things, none of which were particularly pleasant. At least it got his mind off of me being a teacher, which he thought was humiliating enough.”

“Wow.”

“My dad’s not exactly Mr. Understanding. Or law-abiding.”

“Mine’s just a deadbeat drunk.”

“Oh, mine’s definitely a drunk. And druggie. Let’s just say family holidays weren’t things in the Milkovich household.” Ian watches Mickey to see his expression when he talks, and he almost seems to find it all amusing. 

“Ours inevitably involved fights, blood, and the occasional suicide attempt.”

“I’m pretty sure we would have been besties when we were younger.”

“I’m pretty sure you would have kicked my ass.”

Mickey laughs and Ian wants to kiss him even more. “Yeah. Probably.” 

There’s a rush of air and noise as the train approaches. They board and Mickey stands at one of the poles. Ian briefly entertains the thought of wrapping his arms around Mickey and holding on just above Mickey’s hands. He has really got to get his head together. He flops into a seat instead, stretching his legs out in front of him. He can see Mickey’s eyes moving up them to Ian’s crotch. Ian’s already half hard just thinking about what he wants to do to Mickey, and Mickey’s eyebrow shoots up again as he looks at Ian’s burgeoning hard on. 

“You want something, Ian?” Mickey’s voice is low and hot and Ian’s not going to last until they get into his apartment. 

Ian shrugs as casually as he can. “You know what I want.”

“Think I do.” He lets go of the pole and heads for the door. “Our stop.”

Ian gets to his feet and counts his footsteps until they’re out of the station. Once they’re past the bright lights, he grabs Mickey’s arm and presses him against a wall. Mickey shoves back and turns them, pinning Ian. “If I wanted to get fucked in an alley, there are plenty of clubs I could have gone to rather than hooking up with one of my co-workers.” He’s holding the tweed jacket and he uses his grip to shake Ian a little. “Got it?”

 

Ian nods, and he’s got a full hard-on now. Mickey smells like smoke and something sweet, and Ian’s not sure if the first thing he wants to do is suck him, fuck him, or lick him everywhere. He intends to do all of them, but he’s big on prioritizing. He pushes Mickey back and then eases away from the wall. “This way.”

The walk to his apartment seems to take forever, but Ian finally gets the door open and lets Mickey inside. He closes the door behind him and, when he turns around, Mickey’s holding onto Ian’s jacket again and pinning him to the door. His eyes are dark as he looks up at Ian and Ian groans low before he covers Mickey’s mouth with his own, sucking on Mickey’s bottom lip. Mickey slides his hands under the jacket and tugs Ian’s shirt free of his jeans, immediately starting to unbutton it.

Ian reaches up to stroke Mickey’s jaw, but Mickey breaks the kiss, nipping at Ian’s fingers before sucking them into his mouth. “Christ,” Ian breathes, pressing slightly on Mickey’s tongue. Mickey moans around Ian, sliding a leg between both of his. Ian grinds down against Mickey’s thigh and bends his head to bite and lick Mickey’s throat. 

Mickey releases Ian’s fingers with a wet pop then steps back. Ian’s annoyed sound melts into a groan when Mickey drops to his knees and starts undoing Ian’s belt. Ian watches, looking down at the pale skin between his open shirt, the shock of red hair as Mickey pushes Ian’s pants and boxers down. Seeing his dick disappear between Mickey’s wet, red lips. It’s probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen and, coupled with the noises Mickey’s making, Ian’s incredibly glad the door is behind his back to support him.

Mickey’s mouth is wet and hot and tight, and he sucks Ian like he’s been practicing his whole life for this, like this is the fucking Olympics of blow jobs. “Jesus. Jesus, Mickey.” Ian’s voice breaks, and Mickey runs his hands up the back of Ian’s thighs in response, squeezing his ass. It seems impossible, but he takes Ian deeper and Ian can’t help but bury his fist in Mickey’s hair. “Fuck. Don’t...Oh god.” 

Ian closes his eyes even though he doesn’t want to look away. Mickey sucking him is too much, too good. Ian tugs at Mickey’s hair, pulling him back. Mickey eases off of him reluctantly, his tongue flicking out across the head of Ian’s dick before he finally pulls away. His mouth is Ian’s definition of sin. 

Mickey wipes his hand on the back of his mouth. “Problem?” His voice is thick and rough and Ian’s knees jerk when Mickey leans in and sucks on the head, sharp and quick before pulling back. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it.”

“Yeah.” Ian sinks down on his knees and palms Mickey’s dick. “But you keep it up and I’m not going to be able to, and I want to sink into your ass balls deep.”

Mickey exhales shakily. “I like that plan. It’s good. Good plan.”

Ian rolls back onto his heels and stands up, shedding his clothes. Mickey gets to his feet as well and does the same. Ian lets his eyes roam over Mickey hungrily. Mickey’s a head shorter than Ian, but he’s compact and built, all faintly freckled pale skin. His body tapers into bruiseable hips and a hard cock. Ian notices the scars on his skin, but doesn’t comment, moving in close instead. He licks Mickey’s upper lip and then kisses him in earnest. Mickey rises up into the kiss and Ian grabs his hips tight.

Their cocks rub together and Ian lets his hand slide to Mickey’s perfect ass so he can bring him even closer, feel the press of their dicks hard against one another. “Come on. This way.” He pulls away reluctantly, but Mickey follows him. Ian doesn’t remember if he made his bed yesterday morning, but he doesn’t care as soon as Mickey crawls onto it, because Ian fully intends on it being a mess by the time his alarm goes off.

**

Mickey crosses his arms and presses his head against them, ass high in the air. He hears Ian groan roughly and move to the side of the bed. Mickey’s mouth is sore from the stretch around Ian’s dick, and the thought of feeling it push inside him makes his whole body tremble. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something so much. 

The bed depresses as Ian climbs on top of it and Mickey just wants Ian on top of _him_. He hears the click of the cap on the lube and then the slippery slide of it as Ian must be warming it with his fingers. Mickey sucks in a breath as Ian presses a finger against him, rubbing circles over the muscle, flicking the puckered flesh. “Christ,” Mickey groans.

Ian laughs low, his breath ghosting over the damp skin. Mickey shivers and then Ian’s finger breaches him, pushing in with shallow thrusts until it’s buried inside Mickey. Mickey clenches his teeth and wills his body to relax, breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose. Ian’s other hand rubs at Mickey’s lower back and he waits until most of the tension is gone before he starts moving his finger. Mickey paces his breathing to match Ian’s thrusts and he can feel the last of the tension from the penetration leave him. 

“Good?” Ian whispers against his skin.

“Fuck. Yes.” Mickey arches his back and pushes his ass higher in the air. “More.”

“Greedy,” Ian murmurs, laughing softly. “I like that.” 

He pulls his finger almost out and then pushes in slowly with a second. Mickey bites his lower lip hard as Ian eases in. His erection flags again, but he recovers faster, takes Ian easier. Ian’s curved fingers graze the sensitive skin inside him, rubbing and feathering so that Mickey’s never sure which sensation he’ll get. It’s frustrating and arousing and Mickey can feel the pre-come coating the head of his cock

“Fuck. Fuck.” Mickey presses his forehead hard against his arm and tries to push back, but Ian’s moved his hand to one cheek of Mickey’s ass and won’t let him move. He presses against Ian’s hand and then Ian starts moving his fingers in earnest, fucking Mickey, spreading his fingers as wide as he can as he thrusts them in and out. 

Mickey can feel the heat coursing through him, and he knows his skin has to be flushed and sweaty. Ian’s mouth moves over the base of Mickey’s spine, licking at the crack of his ass and Mickey whimpers at the back of his throat. He hears the click of the bottle and then more lube, cool this time, but warming quickly as Ian works it inside Mickey with a third finger. 

Ian keeps thrusting, pushing until his fingers are buried to the last knuckle before curving them, pressing firmly until he hits just the right spot and Mickey moans low and desperate. Ian keeps rubbing and massaging it until Mickey’s quivering, begging. “Please. Fuck, Ian, please.”

Ian nips at Mickey’s ass just above the crack. “No.” 

Mickey feels hot tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and he’s getting to the point where he can’t breathe. He’s pretty sure his blood and bones have been replaced with want and need and then suddenly Ian works another finger in and Mickey shudders all over. His cock jerks and his head slips off his forearms, both too sweaty to rest against each other. “God. God. Oh, god. Ian’. Fuck, please. God.”

Ian bites Mickey’s ass hard and Mickey’s cock jerks again. He’s leaking steadily now and Ian easing his hand out of Mickey’s ass feels like he’s losing a piece of himself. His knees threaten to give out, but then Ian’s there, back again, fingers slick as they grab Mickey’s hips, thumbs spreading the flesh of Mickey’s ass, holding him open as Ian’s dick presses in.

Mickey’s mouth opens in a silent moan. He’d had Ian in his mouth, so he knows he’s big. Knows he’s long and thick. But feeling Ian push inside him is something else altogether. He goes slow but steady and Mickey feels like every inch has to be the last, every movement will be Ian settling all the way inside him. 

Except it isn’t. Over and over again. Ian keeps sliding in, deeper and deeper until Mickey chokes on his own breath, Ian’s pelvis flat against Mickey’s ass. “Shit, Mickey. You’re so fucking hot. So tight. Shit.”

Mickey pants roughly against the sheets, his hands clenched into fists around the fabric. He’s fairly certain if Ian doesn’t move he’s going to die, but he’s equally certain if Ian _does_ move, he’s going to die. He tries to focus on the feel of Ian’s fingertips pressing into his hips, focus on each point of contact, but then Ian moves, and the only thing Mickey can think about is how fucking amazing Ian feels.

Ian starts slow with a few strokes and then he finds a rhythm. It’s hard and fast and punishing and Mickey’s never felt so fucking amazing in his life. He keeps repeating Ian’s name, a jumble of syllables running together, Ian lays against Mickey’s back, buried inside him and thrusting, barely pulling back, cock so deep inside Mickey he can feel it everywhere. Ian keeps whispering something against Mickey’s spine, and Mickey’s got no clue what it is, but the hot breath is another sensation, almost too much.

Ian moves faster, getting closer. It’s just a constant hard pounding against Mickey’s ass. Mickey can vaguely hear the high-pitched keen that’s coming from his throat, too far gone to do much more. Ian’s hips stutter slightly and Mickey cries out, burying the sound against the mattress. 

“Close,” Ian’s voice shudders across Mickey’s shoulder blade. Mickey tightens around Ian and Ian moans roughly. Mickey can feel Ian jerk again, movements erratic as he gets closer. Mickey wants to touch his own aching cock, but he knows if he moves his arm, he’s going to lose his balance completely. Ian must sense something, or he’s just close enough that it reminds him that Mickey needs to be touched, to come. 

His hand wraps around Mickey’s dick, squeezing just the right side of rough before he starts stroking. Mickey comes after just a couple pulls of Ian’s hand, and the only thing that keeps him from slumping down on the bed is the gasping inhale Ian takes before he stills completely and comes. It’s instinct to tighten around Ian again, and it earns Mickey a soft, almost pained sound. 

Ian pulls back slowly, his chest stuck to Mickey’s back with sweat. Mickey manages to stay on his knees until Ian pulls out of him and then he slumps to the bed, not caring that he’s lying in a pool of his own come. 

“What’s that?” Ian asks breathlessly as he comes back to the bed from where he must have taken off the condom. Mickey assumes there was a condom. He’s not sure he fucking cares, because Ian Gallagher has _ruined_ him for sex.

Mickey turns his head to the side so he can breath and so Ian can hear him. “I said I’m gonna have to call in sick my second day of teaching.”

“We’ve got a whole three hours to sleep.” He reaches over to make sure his alarm is set and then reaches for Mickey, tugging him closer. “You’ll be fine.”

**

Mickey is not a morning person.

Ian doesn’t need to hear Mickey tell him to shut that goddamned fucking thing off when Ian’s alarm blares ‘I Will Survive’ at top volume just a few hours later. He doesn’t have to see Mickey flip him off when Ian asks him if he slept well. He doesn’t have to hear him yelp at the cold water or tell Ian his shampoo is girly and smells like shit. He doesn’t have to see the blurry look Mickey gives him until he puts on his glasses and sits at Ian’s breakfast counter and makes grabby hands for the coffee. He doesn’t need any of that to know that Mickey’s not pleased with mornings on any level. 

“What?” Mickey managed to find his clothes on the way in from the bedroom, so he’s wearing more than boxers, which is all Ian managed.

Ian smiles. “Are you always this pissy after getting your ass plowed?”

“Only when I’ve had three hours of sleep and have to face a shitload of teenagers.” Mickey takes a drink of coffee and closes his eyes. Ian’s almost afraid he’s going to fall back to sleep. “Not that I had three hours of sleep, because someone is a cover hog even though he lets off heat like a fucking furnace, _and_ likes to cuddle and grab my junk while he’s sleeping.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sleeping during that part.” Ian sets down a plate of toast between them and leans on the counter. “That I totally did on purpose.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Ian smiles and then bites his lip. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah. My ass can feel how good a time you had.” Mickey doesn’t say it with any heat, so Ian smiles a bit wider.

“Not just the sex. The rest of it too. It was nice. Fun.”

Mickey looks at him over the rim of his coffee mug, steam clouding his glasses. Ian watches him closely, warily. Mickey in the morning seems different than the Mickey from last night. He finally takes a drink and sets the mug down, waiting until his glasses are clear to return Ian’s smile. “It was. The sex was better than good though.”

Ian taps his coffee mug against Mickey’s. “Hear, hear.”

“I have to go home though. I’m not going to work in the same clothes as yesterday.” He slides off the stool and looks around for his shoes. “I’ll see you at school.”

Ian frowns slightly and nods. “Yeah. See you.”

The door shuts behind Mickey and Ian dumps the rest of his coffee out and throws the toast in the garbage. The problem with falling in love so easily is that no one else does it with the skill and speed Ian has. He needs to look at last night for what it was – a one night stand. A four hour stand. He can hear Lip’s voice in his head already. 

Fuck.

He showers and gets dressed for work, kicking his clothes from yesterday toward the bedroom. His classes are going to love him today, given that he’s now in a pissy mood and he doesn’t have any desire to teach anyone anything. He’ll give them all a free period and catch up on the grading he should have done last night instead of acting like a lovestruck teenager. 

And fucking his co-worker. At least the worst Mickey can do is _get_ him fired. He can’t be the one doing it. He walks into the school and straight to his classroom, not wanting to talk to anyone in the office or the staff room. He doesn’t think he can handle Gail, and he doesn’t want to listen to the idle morning chitchat and gossip. 

Instead he sits down at his desk and rubs his temple with the ball of his hand. The warning bell rings and the students start to filter in, talking as happily as they move to their desks for the first class of the day. He looks up when the second bell rings and everyone’s in their seat. Most of them are looking at him curiously, because he’s usually on his feet greeting them and smiling and letting them tease him about something. 

Today he just tells them to open their books. He gives them a reading assignment that earns him a collective groan that he silences with a look. He’s easygoing usually, but the students all know when they’re close to pushing too far. 

“Tomorrow we’ll have a test on wh-” Ian stops as the classroom door swings open. It feels like deja vu again when Mickey pushes his glasses up his nose. He’s wearing jeans and a dark purple button down shirt and a fucking white lab coat.

Ian is only human.

“This isn’t the science lab, Mr. Milkovich.”

“I know. But if I put this in there, it’d be cold by the time you got to drink it.” He walks over to Ian’s desk and sets down a cup of coffee from a nearby shop. “Not quite an apple for the teacher, but I heard the stuff in the staff room is awful.”

Ian glances at his class and they’re all staring at them with wide-eyed wonder and amusement and, in some cases, complete bewilderment. Victoria’s voice breaks the silence. “Aren’t you going to say thank you, Mr. Gallagher?”

Ian clears his throat and realizes at some point he’s going to have to look away from Mickey. But not yet. “Thank you, Mr. Milkovich.”

Mickey nods and smiles then, under his breath so the students can’t hear, he whispers. “You can make it up to me later.” 

Ian watches Mickey walk out and he knows he probably looks like a completely love-sick idiot. And he absolutely doesn’t care. He knows this is going to be all over the school. He knows they’re going to get called into the principal’s office or the school district offices and they’re going to hear about fraternization and rules and Ian’s going to have to talk about the heterosexual relationships between teachers that aren’t even mentioned. He knows that he and Mickey are going to be the object of so much fucking speculation it’s not going to be funny and it’s going to drive Mickey absolutely crazy.

Ian doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Forget the reading,” he says, unable to stop smiling at the door even though Mickey’s long gone. “Do whatever you want as long as you keep it to a dull roar.”

“What are you going to do, Mr. Gallagher?”

Ian fights his smile, but it’s a losing battle. “Drink my coffee.”


End file.
